This Week in Meals: Sleeper-Hit Eggplant Rice and Cult Mealoaf

I've already talked about my need for a regimented approach to meal planning in the interest of avoiding blood sugar tantrums and overall hunger-related life devastation.  With my schedule, this means making lots of food ahead of time and having it ready to re-heat/ tote to work at a moment's notice.

Fall is a great season for make-ahead food-- stews, casseroles and even kale salad actually taste better the second (or third) day. Where cooking in the Summer makes me feel kind of like a precious asshole (fresh heirloom tomatoes rotting on the counter because my plans changed), cooking ahead in the Fall makes me feel awesome and capable and prepared because the food is just hanging out in the fridge and it's already delicious!

I planned recipes on Saturday, shopped on Sunday, prepped (chopped and stored veggies, sorted ingredients into recipe bundles) on Tuesday morning and cooked on Wednesday and Thursday. Monday is the day from scheduling hell, so I ate chocolate zucchini cake from the Big Bear for dinner, and I'm not sorry. I'm a grownup!

Here's what I made:

Breakfast: Oatmeal. Green smoothies. Ezekiel bread with peanut butter. We have a thing going.

Lunch: Leftovers or this egg sandwich.

Dinner:

David Kinch's Eggplant Dirty Rice. The Amateur Gourmet made a big deal about this and he does not normally mess around, so I was bummed when I tasted it right out of the oven (it took 30 minutes to cook rather than the recommended 17) and it was meh. Then, I took a spoonful from the fridge the next morning and it was incredible-- really savory and complex and black-pepper spicy. This recipe is HUGE, so I divided into thirds. The first third fed the two of us, and I froze the other two portions separately to eat with poached fish in the next month.

Food 52's Rosemary Turkey Meatloaf. This meatloaf is approaching a cult-like status-- Rachel is obsessed. Jordy is obsessed. Rosalind is a vegan so she doesn't count. You know that yummy sweet topping that meatloaves have, and how you always with there were more? WITH THIS RECIPE THERE IS SO MUCH MORE TOPPING. Ftw. Again, we ate a third and I froze the rest in individual portions for sandwich purposes.

The chicken green curry recipe on the back of the Green Curry Paste bottle. Plus broccoli and red pepper. Half box chicken broth, one can lite coconut milk. Sautee a shallot and a jaleno pepper with fresh ginger before adding the chicken. Takes 30 minutes start to finish. Freezes great. Rachel reccomends serving this with rice noodles.

Sprouted Kitchen's Black Bean, Goat Cheese and Zucchini Enchiladas. Awesome awesome awesome. Don't change a thing.

A quick note:

You'll find that I use pre-made enchilada sauce and pre-made curry paste in two of these recipes. That is because I have a life and am not insane. Actually, I have spent 3+ hours making indonesian satay sauce by hand, but it was only marginally better than the stuff in the bottle. Since then, I decided to leave certain great pleasures to their respective experts. To whit-- dosas = Vimala's, yeast gravy= The Grit, matzoh ball soup = my mommy.

Pictures: What I See When I See You: Chet'la

I spent this Friday evening in the community garden with my friend Chet'la, chatting about all kind of things and snapping some pictures. 

It had been a while since Chet'la and I had caught up, and I was honestly more interested in talking to her than in photographing her, so when we reviewed the images, I warned her not to expect anything amazing. She said that just as long as I was feeding her dinner, she didn't mind how the photos turned out.

What she saw shocked her.

In the pictures, as in life, she is stunningly lovely. Calm, dignified, but also full of feist and spirit. 

Chet'la found the images incredibly interesting. She studied them as one might examine artifacts from another time or place. "Dude," I finally said. "Don't you realize that that's what people see when they look at you?"

Of course she didn't. 

None of us, except on really rare occasions, are very good at conceiving of ourselves in the same way others view us, right? 

This is one of my favorite things about photographing people: being able to hand them a photo and say, this what I see when I see you.

Good photos give people a chance to re-see themselves, just for moment, through the eyes of love.

I can't wait to show more and more of the wonderful people in my life what I see when I see them.

 It's remarkably beautiful, the view from here.

Makers: Each Peach Market and making space for food conversations

The best way to describe Each Peach Market is to say that it's like a tiny farmer's market. Indoors. That's open all of the time. Where you can call ahead and ask them to set aside the last package of chicken breasts for you.

I heard about Each Peach's Kickstarter campaign back in June, and I was so excited by the concept that Jeanlouise and Emily laid out: a community-oriented market with a mixed stock of reasonably priced staples and high-end fancy foods.

 A lot of the time a food store is either-or: you can get carrots and lettuce and flour and peaches, or you can get a eight-dollar jar of Rick's Picks beets. Why not place both on the same shelf?

I had a great conversation with Jeanlouise about her desire to build store inventory around the principle that some foods are for everyday, and others are special treats. Peaches and bread? Everyday. Fancy beet pickles? Probably a sometimes food.

It's impossible to talk about food stores without talking about the price  and availability of food, and the fact that, when it come to food opportunities, most people don't get what they deserve.

Add to that the fact that Each Peach is located in the incredible diverse and rapidly gentrifying Mount Pleasant neighborhood of DC, and you've got the making of a pretty lively conversation: What kinds of food can people buy within walking distance of their homes? Is it affordable in proportion to their salaries? What percentage of their budget should people be expected to spend on food? Should their be community standards for what "good" and "healthy" food looks like? Who should be in charge of setting them? How can people be made to feel welcome?


What impresses me most about Each Peach is that Jeanlouise and Emily aren't shying away from that conversation. They seem excited to be a part of it.

They are also excited about things that taste awesome, like District Kombucha, Number One Sons Pickles, responsibly raised meat,  and produce from local growers (it's worth noting, but the way, that the produce they sell costs the same or less than the produce at Whole Foods). If I'm going to commit to buying local or organic produce whenever I can, I'm so excited to be able to give my money to REAL PEOPLE.

Mark Gilbert once wrote, "We must risk delight". With all the pleasure that food can bring, I don't think that our dialogue about it, even in its hardest moments, needs to be austere. It can happen in beautiful places. Everyone can be invited. Every conversation, even the ones about fancy pickles, can be predicated on the notion that all of us deserve to eat well, near our homes, for a reasonable price.

I'm thrilled to see so many Makers in DC who are interested in talking about how food can bring us both pleasure and sustenance. The space at Each Peach Market invites contemplation of that nature- it is both beautiful and utilitarian, full of foods for body-fuel, for quotidian pleasure and for special occasions.

As food produces and curators like Each Peach get their legs, I think contemplation and conversation about food in our lives and our communities will keep expanding. The challenge will be to make it inclusive, and to make sure that it bears real fruit.

A Few Things I'm Excited about: Not Quite Fall Edition

School is in full swing. There are as yet no papers to grade. The late summer light stupid beautiful and golden and I've got two quarts of Number 1 Sons pickles in my fridge and a new episode of The Newsroom on queue. Just try and harsh my mellow.

My students have known each other for about two weeks now, so obviously it's time for them to start dating each other. In October, when the inevitable drama begins to unfold, I will share this genius toddler adage with them: WORRY BOUT YOURSELF.

I spent a little too much time this weekend ogling the rad food documentary site, to cure. This is the kind of food photography I want to take.

In this open letter to her older brother, Dr. Jasmine Elizabeth Johnson has written the most compelling and fascinating gentrification narrative I've ever read. A particularly poignant thing to stumble across while drinking a short americano at the Big Bear Cafe in Bloomingdale, freshly painted rowhouses on all sides:

I've come to appreciate jazz, wine, hookah, and designer pizza. I am sure you would have enjoyed these things too, if it were not for your absence that in part made space for it all.... 

...The park and still-swings that were backdrop to your morning murder are today the spot where first dates go. It's a clean green park where couples with coffee sit on benches and read. Or meander. They unwind and relax where you transitioned. They exercise a luxury of time in the place where you were refused more. Your death spot was my high school bus stop.

My former professor Michael Wenthe and his cadre of comic nerd genius co-artists are running a Kickstarter for Cartozia Tales,  "An all-ages fantasy anthology with all the stories set in a shared world, created by a team of top-notch indie cartoonists". It. Looks. Awesome. So many rad, hand-drawn backer gifts. I'm for sure getting a subscription to share with my 12 year-old sister, Ziggy.

Oh, Internet, first you give me this perfect, perfect, description of What's in Prince's Fridge, and then you tell me it was an April Fool's joke. Nevermind. Leave me alone. I'm too busy contemplating how yak milk can be "freely given" to worry about details like veracity.

Pictures: Jordan and Jasmine Get Married (Love in our Lifetime)

Friends, it's the New Year. Let's look at love pictures.

Last week, I was lucky enough to photograph the wedding of Jordan and Jasmine on a rainy Tuesday afternoon in Maryland. Both of them are from New Mexico, so they they'll have a larger celebration soon with all of their friends and family from home, but their sweet friend hired me to capture in photos the day of their legal marriage.

Jordan and Jasmine's love is so palpable and real-- you don't need to know their story to understand the enthusiasm and affection that they put into their relationship.

They were so excited to dedicate themselves to one another, and it seemed like their wedding marked for them a new step in that dedication, but also a natural progression of a love story that's been unfolding since they met, two years to the day before they were married.

Part of me wants to focus only on the love between Jordan and Jasmine, and the everyday miracle of it- two people choosing each other. But there's the other part of the story, too: the fact that when Jordan and Jasmine met two years ago, a marriage like theirs wouldn't have been legal. And now it is.

So as much as it's important to honor their love for what it is-- purely and uniquely theirs--I can't look at this picture of Jasmine, carefully tucking away the fresh marriage certificate that will allow her new wife to access her military benefits, without thinking of all the people I know who fought to make the legality of their union possible.

People who look at pictures like these and say, with hushed reverence, barely believing it, "In my lifetime."

And then, there's the that individuality again-- the pure, goofy uniqueness of their love, Jordan and Jasmine, choosing one another for who they are, not because history demands it.

That's the way love is, I think. Part sweepingly universal, and part specific and particular: those hands, those lips, these brains and hearts, with all the weight of the millennia behind them.

When we see love like that, regardless of what the government has to say about it, or how many times we've seen love before, the appropriate response is to stop and say, with fresh wonder, "In my lifetime".

Jordan and Jasmine, thank you for adoring each other. It brightens the world.

Here's to long and happy years.

Self Care How-To: Establishing a Daily Yoga Practice That Works

 Lately, as a part of my attempt to practice good self-care, I've been taking a few moments every once in a while to move through some yoga asanas on my own-- it feels great! Right now, however, it isn't a regular thing-- just something I do when I need a 'tune-up' in the middle of the day. The more I set aside time for these 'tune-ups',  the more I contemplate making yoga at home a regular thing in my life-- but I'm not sure how to make that happen. It feels daunting! 

 I asked my wonderful friend, yoga teacher Rosalind Schwartz, to share some tips about how to create a personal yoga practice. Ros is a graduate of the teacher training program at Heart of Yoga School in Carrboro NC. These days, she works as a teacher and administrator at my very favorite Washington DC studio, Yoga District. 

Here's what Ros has to say:

Dear Anna,

There are a lot of ways to practice yoga, so it's important to clarify what exactly these tips are designed to help you do. Yoga refers to a philosophical system descended from Vedic (ancient Indian) scripture, with practical offshoots ranging from selfless service (Karma Yoga) to extended meditation and philosophizing (parts of Raja Yoga). 

What we're talking about is Hatha Yoga, which is practiced via asana, meaning the postures and series of postures we in the global west call "yoga".

Most of us start practicing the yoga asana by finding a nearby studio and going to class once a week. We leave class feeling refreshed, calmer, stronger and more open. And so, if we have the time and energy, this usually turns into two times a week, then three times a week, and so on until it becomes entirely too expensive, and we begin to think about practicing at home. 

Your home practice is the core of your yoga practice. While it's really important to go to class and find a teacher who can speak to your experience and answer your questions, the home practice is where your attention can move inward without obstruction, and your practice becomes an authentic expression of who you are in the present moment. 

In my yoga teacher training, we worked with yogi Mark Whitwell's recommendations for establishing and cultivating a home practice. He suggests setting aside seven minutes every day to practice. That's it! Just seven minutes, whenever you want. If you can commit to seven minutes every day, you're already well on your way to having a sustainable home practice.

These tips are intended mainly to support people who have a familiarity with yoga basics and want to practice at home. People who have never practiced yoga may be better served by watching videos online, reading a book with helpful diagrams or attending a basics class.

1. Pick your space. Choose where in your home you want to practice, and let that place be The Place. If you have a small home, it may need to be a multipurpose space like a hallway, but it only needs to be large enough to roll out your mat. I know plenty of professional yogis who practice between the bed and the wall, or even in their kitchens!

2. Curate your space. If you're practicing in a hallway, this may mean hanging pictures or colored wall drapes to make it more comfortable. It may mean cleaning the space before you practice. It may mean burning incense or smudge sticks, or getting a salt lamp or candles. Whatever it is, make the space precious. Let it be somewhere you want to go.

3. Treat yo'self. There's no reason your yoga practice has to be about austerity and self-denial. Reward yourself for coming to your mat every day! You could use essential oils or a nice lotion before or after you practice. You could treat yourself to an extra-hot shower or long bath. You could buy yourself flowers or indulge in a favorite snack. Eventually, the practice becomes its own reward, but especially in the beginning, this helps to make it something you actually want to do.

4. Commit, but practice non-obsessively. Seven minutes every day isn't much, but eventually something will come up and you'll miss a day. Or maybe you only manage to practice for three minutes instead of seven. It will throw you off, and you may feel guilty. It may even seem like you should completely give up, because you broke your commitment and it therefore invalidates all the other days you managed to get to your mat. But that's nonsense. Don't trap yourself in this way! It's important to practice, but it's more important to practice without becoming obsessive. Give yourself a break. Return to your practice the next day. Resist the urge to judge yourself!

5. Practice what you want, when you want. Do you have to do sun salutations at home? Well, if it's the first thing in the morning and your body wants a warming practice, then it might be nice to get the heart rate up a bit. But if you're practicing right before bed when the body is ready to start cooling down, doing ten sun salutations would be counter-productive. Begin to listen to the signals of the body. Does it want to twist today? Does it want to do forward folds? If it was injured recently, maybe it needs to rest for seven minutes in legs-up-the-wall or savasana. It doesn't matter. Just get to the mat, invest seven minutes in listening to the messages of the body, and know that that's enough. 

Thanks, Rosalind! I am so proud to be your friend.

Check out Ros' classes at Yoga District if you'd like to experience her supportive, playful teaching style for yourself!

The Self Care Series: Caitlin Leffel Ostroy

I've been curious for a long time about the diverse ways that people take good care of themselves. As I finish my twenties, I feel like my huge project of developing an adult self-care practice is coming to a close. I'm thinking a lot about how I take care of my body and my mind, and how I want that to look in the next decade. It's scary and exciting!

In the coming months, some of my amazing friends have agreed to talk in this space about their own self-care routines. I'm so lucky to have them as my teachers in this.

We'll start with my friend Caitlin Leffel Ostroy, who lives in NYC with her husband, Alex. Caitlin is an editor at Rizzoli, a wonderful essayist and a very enthusiastic eater. I once spent a blissful, snowy afternoon in Chicago with Caitlin at Rick Bayless' Xoco, eating ALL THE VEGETARIAN THINGS and swapping recipes for soup. I'm really excited to share Caitlin's self-care philosophy with you because she's remarkably thoughtful and determined. An avid runner, Caitlin decided after the NYC Marathon was cancelled in the wake of Hurricane Sandy that she wanted to RUN IT ANYWAY. Just because. So she did. Here's Caitlin!

On the meaning of self-care

I’ve lived in New York City for most of my life, and there’s such a culture of competitive denial, at least in the milieu I live in: can you live on less, can you sleep fewer hours, can you give more of yourself to work. I’ve definitely gone in the opposite direction in my adult life. I consider it my responsibility and privilege as a grown-up to invest in caring for myself.

My husband and I are both freelancers, and that means we are responsible for purchasing our health insurance, and since we buy our own, the plans we are eligible for are very expensive and not very extensive. As a result of this, I’m cautious about what I do to and put into my body. Knowing that we will be hit with a bill for hundreds of dollars every time we step foot in a doctor’s office or try to fill a perscription has been a very strong incentive for us to take good care of ourselves. It’s also encouraged me to be open therapies and practices, such as shiatsu massage and more recently, acupuncture, which are either alternatives to western medicine, or preventatives for it. At the root, my focus on self-care is about keeping myself healthy and energized in the absence of a safety net like employer-sponsored health care.

On grooming

I’m very focused on skincare. My hair is a battleground, and I never learned to put on makeup, but skincare is my thing. My mother died right when I was coming out of adolescence, so I’ve held on to the few “adult” lessons I have from her. One of the things she told me was to take care of my skin when I was young. (The other one was not to tweeze my eyebrows too thin!) I use a cleanser and a moisturizer in the morning, then the same cleanser with a serum at night. I have a number of skin allergies (metal, salt, chemicals), so I have a pleasant excuse to explore organic and higher-end skincare lines.  One I like a lot is REN; they use very high quality ingredients in their products, but they are also very effective, which I feel like some of the more “natural” lines are not. For my birthday last year, I asked for an eye cream from Eve Lom, which is too expensive for me to buy on my own, but man, it was like putting caviar under my eyes.

Honestly, I don’t feel that I’m attached at all any longer to the idea of “improving” my looks. I’m 32, and somewhere along the way, I just fell into completely accepting the way I look. My practices of self-care are more about exploring ways that I can feel stronger, happier, and more at peace with the world. All of that said, I’d still love it if I woke up one day with nice straight hair.

On physicality and exercise

I was terrible at sports and gym class when I was a kid. Then, I went to college, and I found the gym and a world of physical activity beyond competitive teams sports. I began running five years ago—a type of exercise I’d avoided in the past because I thought I was “bad” at it—and realized that there’s this whole other dimension to exercise as an adult that has nothing to do with comparing yourself to other performers in your peer group. Because I’m a writer and editor, I find the purity of an exercise like running a welcome and necessary balance to the fraught interior world inside my head.

On emotional health

I practice Jivamukti yoga, which is a very spiritual practice, and also one that emphasizes looking inward. We meditate and practice breathing exercises, and think about life from the micro to the macro. One of the things that we do at Jivamukti that I love—though I understand it’s not for everyone—is that we talk a lot about mortality and death. I’ve found it incredibly calming to have a place that brings mortality to the forefront, and I like working on understanding myself as a transient being.

I’ve been working on mindfulness this year—which to me means a practice of being present in my waking interactions. It’s been a big challenge because I’m somewhat dreamy anyway (my husband says I’m the least observant person he’s ever met), and frankly, it’s been a little horrifying to realize how often my head is a million miles away from what my self is doing. I try to prevent myself from multi-tasking, and engage in fewer pleasant distractions (like listening to my podcasts while I walk).

When I think about it, all of my self-care habits are taken to some degree with the underlying goal of making me feel calm, so that I can make good choices, and experience life in the present. 

 


On spirituality

I think part of any self-care regimen that has a spiritual component is mindful of how the practice of it can help the practitioner help others. That said, there’s kind of an inherent self-centeredness in all of this that can shut out, to some degree, the outside the practice or the ritual. I didn’t start any of these things—skincare, running, yoga, diet, practices of mindfulness—with the goal of “acting” a different way. But I’ve noticed some subtle changes in my behavior: I consider my spoken words more, and answer questions more slowly in conversation. I can more easily define what I want and what I need. Going forward, I’d like to use these skills to make clearer, more mindful choices in every area of my life.


On eating

I’m not the biggest Michael Pollan fan, but I picked up Food Rules in the bookstore when it came out and opened to a page with this on it: Don’t eat anything with more than five ingredients in it. This made instant sense to me, and that one line has dictated my diet since then. I don’t take it literally, as in, I won’t eat a homemade dish with more than five ingredients in it, but in the sense that I’m sure it was meant to be taken in: pay attention to what you’re putting inside you, especially if it’s in a package, and make sure you know what those things are.

I also just started going to acupuncture, and my therapist recommended that I eat fish twice a week. I’ve been a vegetarian (ovo-lacto) since I was ten, so this is going to be an interesting experiment. So far, I’m liking shellfish and anything white that just tastes like olive oil, garlic, or whatever it’s cooked in. Can’t do the tuna, the salmon, or anything truly fishy. Other than that, I try to eat when and only when I’m hungry, and to eat whatever my body tells me it wants.

On supportive community

I have a wonderful husband, a great family, rich circles of friends—no shortage of people who care about me, and in some cases, care for me as well. That said, I’m in a better position than anyone in the planet to understand what makes me tick, and tick well. Engaging in practices that help my mind work in a better, calmer way, or moving my body in a way that supports, in contrast, the rest of my work is something only I can do, and for me, I like making those choices privately.

What other activities are crucial to your self-care?

Reading. Being involved in another narrative (whether fiction, nonfiction, historical, lyrical), in addition to being a great pleasure, helps my brain rest and my whole self recharge. It’s like changing to a different frequency and has an effect similar, in some ways, to meditation.

I believe that adults need to be their caregivers, and that however one defines that, caring for oneself has the same benefits are caring for another: it’s giving a certain amount of love, attention, or devotion to needs that enriches, improves, protects, and makes better. I could certainly get along with the things I mentioned above, but I think I would feel less like myself, so I guess the purpose for me in some ways is to stay “close” to my self and to prevent me from covering the core of my person with too many outside influences.

Thanks so much, Caitlin! 

Pictures: Ziva: Yoga in Motion

You know a kid is cool when the best way to get them to come over for a closeup is to yell OH MY GOD LOOK IT'S A REALLY GIANT BUG!

My friend Amelia's daughter, Ziva, is a flurry of activity, and her shenanigans stop for no one. I love toddlerhood because it's an age of total authenticity-- if they hang out with you it's because they want to, not because they are trying to be polite. Otherwise, they go off and do their own thing.

They don't smile on command. If they smile, it's because they think something is awesome.

And if you want to hang with them, it's best to cut the bullshit and go hunting for rad insects.

If you are lucky and you can catch them in moment of stillness, you can see them working to absorb and assimilate everything they've just learned.

Then they shake it off and get back in the game. It's a lot like the cycle of yogic breathing. On the inhale we nourish ourselves. aAt the top of the breath we pause to digest. Then we exhale to eliminate what we don't need. Toddler are very yogic creatures in general, and not just because they are quite bendy.

They are masters at just being here. Hanging out. And moving forward on impulse.

We benefit so much from being near them, but they aren't here to be our teachers. They are here to find rad insects.

Respect.

Places: The Detroit Institute of Art and Rivera Court

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In 1932,  twenty-four-year-old Frida Kahlo suffered a miscarriage at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit, an event which further devastated her relationship to her body, and which she depicted in her painting, Henry Ford Hospital, 1932. Around the same time, my grandmother was born healthy at Hutzel Women's hospital, two miles away.

In 1933, Diego Rivera unveiled the Detroit Industry Murals, a twenty-seven-panel fresco in a huge, sunlit atrium at the Detroit Institute of Art.  The fresco depicts the union of natural magic and human potential-- the earth gods creating iron ore, the growth of crops, the muscular fabrication of auto parts, the vaccination of a small child.

Fifty-one years later, I was born to a twenty-four-year-old mother via crash C-section, also at Hutzel women's. My mother took me to the DIA while I was still in a stroller. I ran as a toddler across the huge tiled expanse of Rivera Court.

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As a teenager, struggling to master my own mind and to conquer the unremarkable and devastating chaos of adolescent identify, I found in the Detroit Industry Murals a way of seeing the world that helped me stand still. Beauty in the order of things.  The tying together of the earth in paint. The binding of time with art.

Lots of people with much more knowledge than I are making well-reasoned and researched arguments regarding why it's a terrible idea to sell off the Detroit Institute of Art's collection to deal with the city's worsening economic problems.  I really, really hope they don't do it.

Rivera painted his frescos as a tribute to the vitality of Detroit's workers and the genius of the auto factory. These days, in the press, Detroit seems like the poster child for the death of American industry. Kahlo experienced a surge of artistic growth in Detroit, but she lost her baby, and her mother died far away in Mexico. To her, Detroit was a "shabby little town".

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If Rivera's fresco are built into the very walls of the DIA building, can the be auctioned off as well? Will they take hacksaws to the walls of Rivera Court and send the panels off in 27 different directions? I don't have a grand argument for why the DIA is worth saving. I just have this series of connections, and some shadowy ideas about their importance in my life. It's not enough on its own, but it's part of the story.

My favorite picture of Rivera and Kahlo shows them high up on the scaffolding surrounding a half-finished Rivera Court, wrapped in passionate kiss. The huge red hands which for Rivera represented the union of God and Nature reach up behind them to cup the sky. I'll spend the rest of my life figuring out why I love that photo so much. Perhaps the ties that bind me to that image are yet to be spun-- thread that will spool out over decades. I only know what I see now: these places, those people, the raw materials, and the potential it all ever holds, which might carry us forward through time.

Pictures: Peachy Baby Violet

A few weeks ago I finally met Miss Vi.

Although her mama Carolyn has been a friend of mine for years, it was kind of like re-meeting her as well. She's the same wonderful, creative person, but her life is different. She's so excited to have met one of her very best friends.

It is an amazing thing to watch a friend transform into a parent. When I was in grad school with Carolyn years ago, I noticed that her interactions with everyone around her were marked by tenderness and enthusiasm-- talking to her feels like an embrace.

It makes sense then, that she would give us Violet: a child so sweet and juicy and fuzzy and full of smiles that she's very nearly the baby embodiment of a peach.

Violet currently enjoys the following things: breasts, smiling, chatting, putting up her dukes, and breasts.

Carolyn's relationship with her kid is so fun to see-- they totally get a kick out of one another. When I held Vi, she went right into my arms with the self-assurance of a kid who knows that her mama is totally available.

I have a feeling that Vi will go on many cool adventures, always knowing that home is still there, waiting for her.

Go, Violet, go! You are part of an awesome team.